


Can't Contend

by Natasi (SwordDraconis113)



Category: Lost Girl
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/F, Outdoor Sex, Public Sex, Rough Sex, Scene Fragments, Semi-Public Sex, Voyeurism, shall I tag all the sex? I think I shall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 20:16:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwordDraconis113/pseuds/Natasi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She buys the first round. Lauren, the second. Somewhere around the fifth round they ended up in a toilet stall with Lauren tugging at her jeans, sticking her fingers inside to see how wet she is already.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Contend

**Author's Note:**

> I had Can't Pretend by Tom Odell on repeat, hence the title.

The first time, Tamsin shoves her against the wall and kisses her hard. She fists the blonde hair in both hand, pressing her hips against Lauren’s until denim drags against slacks. 

Lauren pushes away first, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and glaring, but Tamsin knows, she felt that moan, she felt hands pull her closer, clutching at her jacket. She adjusts the jacket then, running fingers over her pants. She looks FBI, like a proper detective from a proper tv show. Not herself. 

Lauren stares at her longingly but points to the exit. “Leave.” Short. Tight. Crisp. Tamsin smirks and leaves. She watches Lauren shiver when she brushes too close. 

“Catch you later then, doc.”

 

.

 

The second time, she has no intention of kissing her. She’s just at some Dark Fae bar, wearing dark pants, a red shirt and her hair up. The doc wears burgundy silk that plunged low at the front, and shows half her back. In short, she looks Dark Fae and Tamsin thinks about screwing her in the booth, fingers under the table.

She doesn’t, but she thinks about it.

She buys the first round (vodka). Lauren, the second. Somewhere around the fifth round they ended up in a toilet stall with Lauren tugging at her jeans, sticking her fingers inside to see how wet she is already. 

She glares at Tamsin, then kisses her just as harshly, tugging the denim around her thighs to ride Tamsin against the wall with one hand splayed against the toilet stall. 

Tamsin comes with head slamming back and stars in her eyes, swearing Lauren’s name somewhere between drunken slur and incoherent conversation. 

She makes Lauren come with her breasts pressed against the stall, her head to the side and something akin to relief on her face. As if this is what she’s needs.

There’s no shame. Tamsin thinks there should be, Lauren doesn’t.

 

.

 

They’re meant to be investigating. Lauren’s in her lab coat, hands buried deep. Tamsin doesn’t remember climbing into the back of her car, but she remembers peeling off Lauren’s pants, the woman staring up at the moon and stars and dragging nails down her back.

At some stage, Lauren climbs into her lap and they make a game of who can last longer.

Tamsin cheats, according to Lauren. She still thinks it’s a fair move.

 

.

 

“You going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Do you really want to know?”

Tamsin looks at her. Lauren doesn’t look as fragile since she first met her. It’s partly unnerving and partly hot.

“I don’t mind be a fuck, but I’m not your sex toy.”

Lauren smiles genuinely and it’s the first time Tamsin’s seen her do it. “We’ll see,” she teases. She kisses her, slowly, as if she could find some meaning in the kiss. 

Tamsin holds her steady and Lauren thinks she’d fall apart if it weren’t for those hands.

 

.

 

Tamsin expects Bo. Lauren expects Dyson, but it’s Kenzi who walks in on them. Tamsin finally has her own apartment and Mama Kenzi has a habit of not knocking.

In hindsight, they should have closed the bathroom door.

“What the hell?” Kenzi slams her hand over her eyes, only seeing blonde and blonde and knowing one of them is Tamsin.

“Kenzi?”

“ _Lauren_?” She peeks, sees doctor-no-pants and covers her eyes again. “What- when? What? Actually I don’t want to know!”

“Kenzi!” Lauren calls after her, wrapping a towel around her, but Kenzi’s left by the time she gets to the front door. Closing it, she sighs and turns to Tamsin but the valkyrie has put her guard on, suddenly afraid of something.

Lauren dresses, opens her mouth to say something, but decides to just leave. 

 

.

 

They don’t talk for two weeks. Lauren’s not sure why. Tamsin thinks she knows.

 

.

 

“You’re not my sex toy.”

“...good morning to you too.”

Lauren brushes past her, placing pizza and beer on the table. She’s not sure why pizza and beer, but it seemed like a lunchtime thing. 

“Welcome in,” Tamsin says. She glares to nothing, takes the beer and sits on the couch. Lauren stands awkwardly in front of her, fumbling to say something and laughing to herself. “What?” Tamsin demands. “I have work to do.”

“I’m sorry,” she says finally. “For how I’ve been treating you, for...for everything.”

She blames Evony’s beer. But she accepts the apology. Somehow they end up sitting next to each other, eating pizza and watching old reruns from the 90s.

 

.

 

The make up sex was _really_ good. And made Tamsin _really_ sore. But she goes to work smiling and Dyson beams back at her knowingly.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Stop smiling at me like that.” 

 

.

 

They argue with a couch between them. Then fuck on the coffee table. Lauren regrets the latter more when she bending over a microscope and Evony’s snickering at her as if _she_ knows.

She might.

Damn, she does. 

 

.

 

Lauren gets rid of the camera the next morning.

 

.

 

(it’s replaced two days later)

 

.

 

“This _is_ just sex!” Tamsin says. “It has to be.”

“Why?” Lauren asks. No, she demands. Her face glares at Tamsin and suddenly the valkyrie isn’t dark fae. She isn’t nearly two thousand years old.

She’s the child raised by Kenzi who stares at Lauren confused. “Because!” she tries. It doesn’t work, Lauren is waiting for an answer, her cheeks are wet and Tamsin can’t feel her heart beat. “Because...we’re supposed to love Bo and hate each other and just have sex...”

Lauren looks like she’s been slapped. And she has, verbally.

“Is that what you want.”

“I don’t know any more.”

 

.

 

She realizes late at night that she next thought of Bo when she screwed Lauren. There was never a moment where she squeezed her eyes shut, or used the memory of sex with the doc to ghost her fantasies. 

 

.

 

Tamsin leaves. Then returns. Then leaves again and punches Dyson.

He calls Kenzi and of course she’s the one who finds her.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Tamsin…”

“Nothing!”

“Fine, fine. But I’m just saying…” she starts slowly, giving a knowing look, “if it’s about you-know-who, _may_ be you should talk to her.”

“Fuck off.”

“Hey! Language young lady.”

Tamsin smiles, it’s comforting when she hugs her.

 

.

 

Lauren won’t take her calls. She won’t answer her door. She won’t do anything. Finally, Tamsin resorts to cheap tactics and catches her in public.

She’s not sure how they managed to get into a change room, but she knows Lauren’s still mad.

 

.

 

They fuck six more times in assorted places. Lauren always leaves. She leaves bruises, she leaves marks, she leaves unimportant articles of clothing behind, but most importantly, she leaves before Tamsin can understand what’s happening.

 

.

 

Tamsin’s attacked. She doesn’t remember where or when or who even saves her. But she remembers brief moments. She thinks she sees Lauren as her doctor, it’s brief and blurred but it can’t be her. Lauren won’t take her calls.

“You look like her,” she tells her doctor, who’s performing surgery on her at the time. There are lucid moments, highs in the drug that seem to balance in her mind. “But you can’t be. She looks like...like… stardust. Angry stardust. She hates me. I wish...”

“What do you wish Tamsin?”

“That I was human.”

 

.

 

Lauren wakes up in an empty bed with a post-it note on the fridge.

_Out of milk and coffee IOU -T_

_P.s. Sorry about the toaster_


End file.
